


A Soft Place To Land

by minnesotamemelord



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark Friendship, Pepper Potts Dies, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, tony stark is canonically bi and I think we all need to remember that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: Tony's been delivered safely back home, but his welcoming committee is missing a couple of people. Too many people.Without Pepper, Tony feels like he's falling, and as far as a landing goes, there's only one person who might be able to soften the blow.





	A Soft Place To Land

"Where's Pepper?"

Steve refused to meet Tony's eyes as he lowered him into an armchair.

"Steve." Tony grabbed Steve's wrist. "Where is she?" His tone made it clear that he knew just where she was. He needed an answer, though. And he needed it now.

"I... Tony."

"No." Shaking his head, Tony's grasp grew weaker. "No, no, no. _Where is she?_ " Steve dropped to one knee, partially to meet Tony's eyes, partially, it seemed, because it seemed like he could no longer stand.

"Tony, I'm sorry."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Did someone go to New York-"

"Yeah. I went myself, just to be sure. There's no sign of her."

"Well, that doesn't mean she's- she might not be- she could just be out of town-"

"It's been a month. I'm sorry, Tony. She's gone." For the first time in all the time that Steve had known Tony, for the first time in seven years, the charmingly arrogant facade on Tony's face broke, and like a dam, everything he had suppressed, held back as he starved in space because he knew when he got home, he would see her, rushed forwards. His face trembled and he fell into Steve, his bony frame hardly enough to support him. His shoulders shook. Tears soaked quickly through Steve's shirt, and Steve, on instinct, wrapped his broad arms around Tony, squeezing him gently. Before long, Tony stilled, although his breathing was still shaky.

"I- I gotta get out of here. Someone get me out of here." He tried to push himself up on wobbling arms, but Rhodey pushed him gently back down.

"No, Tony, you need to rest." He might have struggled, but he was far too weak. Instead, he reached a hand up to his chest and yanked off the nanoparticle unit on his chest. With a resigned sigh, he slammed it into Steve's hand and closed his fingers around it.

"Take that somewhere- anywhere- just take it away. Please." Steve looked confused, but he nodded.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed." Rhodey slipped an arm around Tony on one side and gestured for Steve to do the same on the other side. Together, they staggered to the infirmary (Tony's room was on the top floor- the infirmary was only down the hall), and lowered him gently into one of the beds. Tony was asleep before his head hit the pillow. With a surprisingly gentle touch, Steve took off his glasses, folding them on the table next to him.

"Go ahead. Get some sleep. I'll stay here."

"You sure? You haven't slept in-"

"Neither have you, Rhodey. Go to bed. He'll still be here when you wake up." Rhodey started to walk out, but paused in the doorway.

"You know, for the past month, I really thought he was gone. I thought the snap got him too, and that I was never going to see him again." He tapped his finger against the door frame. "This is worse. Knowing that he was starving, almost alone, with no hope and no way to make sure everyone he loved was okay. However horrible it was for us, Steve... I can't even begin to imagine that." With that, he left Steve and Tony alone.

Even asleep, Tony didn't look peaceful. He looked worried, but that might just have been the permanent lines drawn into his face. But he was finally at rest, and if anyone deserved to rest, it was him. Steve folded his hands across his chest and leaned back, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. He had barely slept in the month since the snap, and while there was still so much, so much loss and pain and regret, he had to admit- knowing Tony was alive, having Tony back in the compound, it took a little bit of weight off. Not a lot, but just enough that suddenly, life wasn't quite so hopeless. Earth still had her best defender. That meant there was a chance.

 

THREE YEARS LATER

 

Steve's motorcycle roared to a stop in the gravel driveway, his brow furrowing in confusion as he took off his helmet. This place, a log cabin in upstate New York, seemed more like something out of Better Homes and Gardens, not Tony Stark's hideout from the world. He had expected something a little more high-tech, a little less lumberjack. Still, he got off the bike and made his way to the front door. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what Tony would do. The world was a different place now, and they were both different people. But maybe they had changed for the good. Maybe changing would break down whatever was stopping them and finally let them be happy. Whether or not that was true, he had to try. He knocked, three rapid taps on the  screen door. At first, he heard nothing, saw no movement. It was possible he had the wrong place. It would make more sense if he had the wrong place. Then he heard him, from somewhere deep inside the house.

"Coming!" Called a familiar voice. He sounded happier than he had the last time Steve had seen him, although he could just be slightly amused by something and actually in a much deeper depressive state than usual. Whether or not he actually had been happy, all emotion dropped off his face the second he saw Steve through the screen. "Oh my- holy shit." They just stared at each other for what seemed like hours.

"You gonna invite me in?" Steve smiled, that stupid, charming smile.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, of course." Tony yanked the door open and pulled Steve into a warm, if not slightly awkward hug. "It's good to see you, Rogers."

"You too, Stark." Tony stepped aside to let Steve in. They stood uneasily in the front hall, both unsure what to say.

"So, you going to tell me why you've showed up at my house? I don't even know how you got my address, I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

"You forgot to disable the tracker in your suit." Tony looked like he wanted to slap himself.

"Right." He cleared his throat, smiling painfully. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to come by, check in, see how you're doing."

"I'm... I'm as fine as I could be." He shrugged. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. Well, no. I'm starting a kind of support group, for people who lost friends or family in the snap. I thought maybe you'd be interested."

"Thanks, but no thanks." As Steve took a step forward, Tony stepped back, avoiding his reach.

"I think it might be good for you to talk about it, Tony."

"I'm _fine."_

"You left two days after your fiancée and- I don't know, whatever Peter was to you-  after they died, and none of us have seen you in three years. You're isolating yourself from the world, and it's not good for you."

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what's good for me." Tony's voice dropped to a fierce growl, and his eyes sparked with fire. "Not _you._ Not _now._ You, of all people, have no right to tell me what to do with my life." He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, his fists wound so tightly his knuckles had gone bone-white. When he opened them, he sounded more relaxed, but not all of the tension had left his voice. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Can't I stop by to see an old friend?"

"Maybe. Maybe in another world, that's what we would be, just old friends. But did you forget that the last time we saw each other before I got back was when you left me for dead in that lab in Siberia? We weren't friends, and just because you were there when Danvers brought me back doesn't change anything. I can't trust you, don't you get that? Because what's to stop you from breaking my heart and running off again the second Bucky-" He stopped. Bucky was gone. He'd nearly forgotten. "-or someone else needs you?"

"I can't apologize enough for that. I'll never forgive myself for that."

"Good, because I'll never forgive you either." Tony turned on his heel and retreated into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything?"

"...coffee." The turnaround from bitter and hostile to a generous host had been incredibly quick. Steve followed Tony and took a seat at the kitchen counter. "So you're still angry?"

"I-"  Tony groaned, conflicted. "I'm not _not_ angry, but at the same time, I thought I was going to die out there with just robot Smurfette for company. I don't know that I still have the energy for anger." He poured a cup of coffee for Steve. "No milk, two sugars, right?"

"Yeah." Tony slid the cup of coffee over the counter and leaned back on the counter, watching Steve drink in silence. "Look, are you sure you won't come to my group? It's just once a week, and you don't even have to talk if you don't want to, you can just listen-"

"Would you shut up about that? If I wanted to talk to someone about what happened, or listen to anyone else talk about their loss, I wouldn't have come out here and shut myself in. I don't want to talk." He lowered his eyes, and when he spoke next, his voice was soft and gravelly. "I don't even know why you came."

"I told you, I wanted to make sure you were okay-"

"Bullshit. You could have called, or emailed, or done something other than driving an hour and a half to see me in person and drink my coffee."

"No, I couldn't have. I know you, Tony. I know you a lot better than you want to admit. I know what an excellent liar you are, and I know how good you are at pretending you're fine."

"I lost my fiancée, Steve, and the closest thing I've ever had to a son. And I'm so tired of pretending!"

"You don't have to pretend, Tony, not with me-" Steve reached out to place a hand over Tony's, but he jerked his away, fidgeting madly.

"Not about that. I-" His eyes traced the room, looking everywhere but Steve. "I need something stronger." He reached for the cabinet behind him, pulling down a bottle of whiskey. He poured a glass, well over the standard amount, and downed it in one go. "I'm not pretending to be fine. Not really. I'm not fine, I don't think I'll ever be fine, but It's been three years. Pepper wouldn't want me to mourn her forever. I'm pretending that I'm not guilty."

Steve looked up, confused. "Guilty?"

"I can't explain. I shouldn't explain." Tony spoke haltingly, choosing his words with great care. "But I am guilty, and nothing you say or do will ever absolve me of that."

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm confused. What exactly are you guilty of?" Tony took a minute to collect himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured for Steve to follow him into the living room. He sat on the sofa and folded himself into a tiny ball on it, legs tucked together, his elbows resting on his knees.

"For the first year I was out here, I- I couldn't even get out of bed. All I wanted to do was sleep, because..." He trailed off. "You know. But when the grief finally lifted, I stopped dreaming about holding her in my arms again. For months, that had been all I could think about, and then it just stopped. And then I couldn't stop thinking about-" he stopped suddenly. "Actually, it's not important, and I-"

"Tony." Steve's voice was gentle but firm. "Tell me." With shaky breaths, Tony nodded.

"I couldn't stop thinking about those first three days, when I was still at the compound- you wouldn't let me leave, remember?" Steve laughed. He did remember. He wished he could have made Tony stay longer. "And, um, how I don't think I would have gotten through it if you hadn't been there for me." A warmth rose in Steve's chest, a sort of pride in being wanted. "And all of a sudden, instead of dreaming of Pepper in my arms, it was- it was you. I was holding you." Steve looked as if he'd been slapped across the face.

"You... and- and me?" Tony nodded, fidgeting as if keeping still would cause him to implode.

"I just want to turn it off. All of it. I can't stand it anymore!" Abruptly, he stood and began pacing the room. "That's part of the reason I never came back, and part of the reason I wish you hadn't come, because when I'm with you, I feel like I'm drowning. I drown in you."

"...oh."

"Oh? _Oh?_ Three fucking years and that's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Everything. Nothing. Just not 'oh.'"

"Forgive me for taking a moment to absorb, Tony."

"It's- whatever. I think you should go now."

"What?" Steve's eyes blazed. Heat rose up in his face, the kind of heat that made you a little crazy and a little stupid. "You want me to _leave?_ After you said-" he gestured vaguely. "-all that?"

"I..." For the first time, maybe since they'd met, Tony was struck speechless. "I thought you'd want to go."

"I'm not a child, Tony." Steve's voice was tinged with coldness. "I can make my own decisions, and I want to stay."

"O...kay." Gingerly, Tony sat back down. Neither one of them spoke, until Steve finally opened his mouth and whispered so quietly, Tony almost didn't hear him.

"Once, a long time ago, I thought I-" the rest was too quiet to hear.

"What?"

"I thought I loved you." Now it was Tony's turn to look like he'd been slapped, although he looked more like he'd been punched directly in the face.

"You _what?!"_

"It was so long ago that I almost forgot about it. Then came all the pain and heartbreak, and it went all the way to the back of my mind, until Nebula pulled you out of that ship and I realized- I thought, that whole month, I thought you were dead, either killed in the snap or starved to death out in space. So it was a miracle when I saw you again. You are a miracle in and of yourself. And I remembered that feeling. I shut it down, because Pepper and Peter were gone, but now... maybe there's a chance for us."

 _"Us?_ Rogers- Steve, there was never an us. We can't just be together because-"

"Because what? We both have feelings for each other? That's exactly why people are together in the first place. Come with me. Come back to New York. Let's make the best of the worst-case scenario." Again, Tony stood up, his face explosive.

"How _dare_ you ask that of me? After all I told you today, after all we've been through, you want me to forget all of it? Forget them?" He pointed, almost accusatory, at the photos hung on the wall next to them. Him and Peter, him and Pepper. "I don't deserve to." Every word hit Steve like a blow with a blunt object.

"Of course you do." Once again, Steve reached for Tony's hand, and this time, he didn't snatch it away. "You deserve more than anyone to be able to move on. With or without me." When their eyes met again, Tony's were filled with tears, though he brushed them away brusquely.

"There were so many things I wish I could have told you." Steve's eyes narrowed.

"Like what?"

"Like... in that lab. When we, um-"

"Yeah."

"There was this moment. I was on the ground, and you were standing over me, and I've never been scared of you before. Not once. But that look in your eyes? It terrified me. _You_ terrified me. That was what I thought about when I thought of you out on that ship. That fear in my chest, right before you slammed your shield into me. I always trusted you, but in that moment, I really thought you might kill me if it meant saving Bucky. And now he's gone anyway. How's that for irony?" Steve shook his head.

"Don't. Don't talk like that."

"Sorry. Of course. But before that-" Tony laughed humorlessly. "-I think you were my best friend."

"Really? Not Bruce or Nat or-"

"No. You. We didn't always get along. We probably never will. I don't think I ever depended on anyone more than I did on you. After the split, when you were gone, I got by. I really thought I might be just fine without you. But every fight, every press conference, all I could think about was how you would have been able to throw your shield at just the perfect angle, or how you would have said just the right thing." He swallowed hard. "These last three years, my fiancée and my best friend have been essentially dead, either to me or to the world. But I still don't know if having you back, having you here, has made that better or worse."

"...oh," Steve said again. "Then maybe I should go. Give you some time to think." Tony didn't answer, which, of course, was an answer in and of itself. Steve put his coffee cup in the sink and left, allowing the screen door to slam behind him. Straddling his motorcycle, he hesitated briefly, and made a split-second decision. He pulled a slip of paper, a coffee receipt, out of his pocket, and scribbled a few words on the back. He tucked it between the door and the frame, tugging gently to ensure it wouldn't come loose. And that was all, he decided, that could be done about it. The bike roared to life and he was off, gravel flying up in his wake, brushing up clouds of dust into the remarkably clear sky.

 

"Thank you all for coming back." Steve started off his support group the same way he always did. "Is there anyone who wants to start us off?" Nobody moved. They glanced at one another, hoping and praying someone else would take the bait, but no one did. "Alright. Well, then, I guess I'll..." He trailed off as the door opened, and a figure, small in stature, stepped into the light. Steve's breath caught in his throat when he saw Tony, who looked much better than he had when Steve had seen him a week ago. Without a word, ignoring the stares of the people in the circle, he crossed the room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down in the empty seat next to Steve. He took a long, slow sip, then looked up at Steve, who raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

"Oh, okay." He leaned forwards, balancing his elbows on his knees. "My name is Tony." Steve had to stifle a laugh. There was something just so foreign about Tony introducing himself like that, with no bravado or swagger, just like he was anyone else. "Um... Thanos killed my fiancée, and my- well- I don't-" He sent a pleading glance at Steve, who just smiled gently. "He was... the closest thing I've ever had to a son. And in just a moment, he was gone, died in my arms. I thought I was all alone, so I cut myself off from the world. I tried to disappear. But recently, a visit from an old friend reminded me that just because I lost the people I love the most doesn't mean I'm alone. I still have some of my family." With each word, he gathered confidence. "A lot of them. And I understand now that the way to handle loss isn't to cut myself off, because then I lose even more. Closing off a wound might protect it, but it won't heal unless you let it breathe, as painful as it might be. I don't know that it'll ever stop hurting, but I think that it has to hurt before it gets better, or else you just turn numb. I thought I finally knew what my life was going to be, and then this happened. So maybe none of us know. And maybe that's okay, because now it's up to us. We get to write the new rules. We get to start living again because if we don't, half the universe died for nothing." He looked over at Steve. "That good?"

"It was perfect. Who's next?"

 

When they left the meeting an hour later, it was dark and raining outside. They walked alongside one another under Steve's massive umbrella.

"I didn't think you'd come." Tony shrugged.

"I wasn't sure I would either."

"What made you decide to come?" Tony chuckled and stopped walking.

"You're seriously going to ask me that?" Steve's face shifted into confusion. "I came because of you, you assclown."

"Me? The last time you saw me, you-"

"I know. But then I saw that note you left me." He pulled the folded receipt out of his pocket and recited the message written on it. "'Even a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist can use a little help sometimes.'" Below that was written the date, time, and address of the meeting. "Call it nostalgia."

"And did it help?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"If I say yes, will you say 'I told you so?'"

"No."

"Then yes. It did help."

"I told you so."

"You're the worst."

"You love me." He meant it as a joke, of course, but it carried much heavier meaning now than before.

"I do." Tony wasn't joking. "I thought a lot about what you said. And about what Pepper would want. All I ever wanted was to make her happy, and I think she wanted the same for me. And if she thought I could be happy with you instead of wallowing in the middle of the woods, she would have pushed me into you in a heartbeat."

"You don't feel guilty anymore?"

"Well, I do. But I think everything makes me feel guilty at this point. I'd rather be guilty and happy than guilty and sad." He held out a hand, a question as much as it was an answer. Steve slipped his free hand into Tony's and squeezed.

"I liked what you said earlier about getting to write the new rules. There aren't any rules for when something like this happens, because nothing like this has ever happened. So we just have to decide what to do and hope that it's right. Because all we have is hope."

Almost miraculously, the rain seemed to stop. The two of them looked up at the sky. You could see the stars in it. Before the snap, there was too much light pollution, so you could never see anything but flat blackness. Now, Tony pointed to each constellation he could name as they walked, and they smiled, maybe for the first time in years, because much like the stars, hope was finally within view.

And, by God, it was beautiful.


End file.
